


Who’s in there?

by notveryhandy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Other, also probably nardole, and you romana, ffs rani just give up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notveryhandy/pseuds/notveryhandy
Summary: Are you sure it’s really Missy in the Vault? Sadly, no.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master, Twelfth Doctor & Missy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. Irving

**Author's Note:**

> FUCK YOU LOOMS. THERE WAS NO NEED TO WRITE THIS.

Bill looked at the Doctor. “So there’s an incredibly dangerous creature in here, right?”

“Two, actually. One of them’s my brother.”

Bill shivered, but stepped in anyway. “Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?”

From behind them, Nardole hissed, “No! It is not!”

The Doctor ignored him. The doors swung open dramatically, as was to be expected of a prison with two crazy Time Lords in it. Which Time Lords were the crazy ones was up for debate.

Inside was a piano, some random bits of furniture, and two people in the middle of the room, arguing. “The piano is _mine! I_ was here first!”

One of them toppled backwards. “Yes, but you don’t fully appreciate the art of music!”

“What’s wrong with Queen?” the shorter one screeched.

“Everything!” the one with the moustache shrieked.

“Bill,” the Doctor suggested, “how about you come back again tomorrow?”

Bill nodded. That was probably a good idea.

“My name is Irving,” Brax yelled, “and if you help me I’ll make you rich!” 

The Doctor walked out. As he was leaving, he pointed out, “You’re in prison, Brax. You don’t _have_ any money.”

* * *

The Victorian one wrestled with his chair, which only tipped it over. The short one sat there glaring at a wall for a while, before both of them finally gave in and agreed to work together to get out of there.

Then they remembered that the person with a way out was standing right in front of them. “Right then,” said the midget Doctor, “why are we here?”

“More importantly, why am I here?” asked the other Doctor. “I don’t care what happens to him, but I have things to do-”

The man in front of them paused. “I’m not entirely sure. You,” he said, gesturing at Question Marks, “shouldn’t have eaten all the cheese. And you,” he said, pointing to the other (no, not the Other), “need to stop going around telling people you’re half-human.”

They both immediately started protesting. “Also, you were both shorter than the Master, and that is an _inexcusable_ crime.”

“Wait, where’s Ace?” asked the Doctor.

_Boom._

“Whoops,” said their captor. “Probably should have expected that, huh?”

Missy just smirked.

* * *

“Doctor, didn’t I wipe your memories of me?” Clara asked.

“Um.”

Missy grinned like the cat she absolutely was. “Yes, you did. You do realise, however, that I’m capable of undoing mind wipes?”

“Well, shit.”

“Pretty much. Now, I need to go explain to River what just happened,” she said, walking over to the other prisoner in the room. “River, dear, you might want to stand still.”

“Wh - oh, hi, Missy. Am I here for a reason?”

“There’s rarely a reason, but I think the Doctor wanted to keep an eye on you.”

The Doctor blinked. “I... never said that.”

“Doctor, is there a reason there’s a woman standing over there?” Clara said.

“Oh, that’s Bill,” he said, waving his hand. “Sorry, she’s just having a moment of gay panic.”

“Cool... now, can you please get me off the floor? It’s really not comfy.”

“Sure,” he said. “Can't hurt.”

This turned out to be a very bad idea, as proven by the fact that nobody remembered to take River’s gun off her.

* * *

“Other me, please get off other Missy,” the Doctor groaned. “Missy, why do we turn into two raccoons?”

“I don’t know,” she said, munching on some popcorn, “but it’s at least mildly amusing.”

“They’re wrecking everything!” Nardole shrieked. “And I mean _everything!_ Doctor, at least break them up!”

The Doctor shook his head. “Nah, Missy’s right. This is hilarious.”

The blonde Doctor growled from the middle of the Vault, and scratched at her Master. “How _could_ you? How - fucking - _dare_ you?”

The Master snickered. “I’m loving it.”

Bill opened the Vault doors. “Doctor, I’ve got my ess - loving what?”

Nardole spat out his tea. “Doctor, they're hugging each other.”

“Being taller than you is great,” the Master muttered into the Doctor’s shoulder.

She clawed his face off again.

* * *

The Vault had been relatively quite for the past few weeks, until one day it suddenly got wild again. Missy hadn’t attempted to blow up Bristol with a water pistol again, had she?

Thankfully not. Bill gave a sigh of relief, and then, after entering, groaned. Again. On the floor, scowling, was Missy and a stranger Bill didn’t recognise.

Which was probably good; knowing Missy was hardly good for her health. The figure on the floor winced.

“Missy, could you please get off me?”

At that, Missy glared. “No. You’re annoying and you tried to use my piano.”

“You’re annoying too, and technically the Doctor bought that piano.”

“If you continue talking like that, I’ll drop a piano on you. I’ve always wanted a deadly piano.”

“ _Please._ ”

“ _Fine,_ Romana,” she said, lifting her knee off the woman - Romana, apparently - with much disappointment. “But I don’t want anyone going near my piano.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on going near your _deadly piano_ any time soon.”

“Good,” Missy said viciously, “and if you _do_ touch my piano again, you will _sorely_ regret it.”

Bill just stood there, gaping.

* * *

“Kill me now,” the Rani suggested, “instead of keeping me in a giant fridge to contemplate what the hell I did to deserve this.”

“I resent the implication that this is a giant fridge,” Missy said. “I prefer microwaving my corpses.”

“I’m not even going to ask.”

Bill stared at both of them, and turned to the Doctor, who was mouthing _giant fridge_ to himself. “Doctor, what the fuck?”

He snapped out of his daze. “Um, no idea. Missy, no stabbing. And Rani, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to keep you here so you don’t make an army of dove-pigeon hybrids.”

“Why would I do that? The Earth animals here are incredibly tasteless, and besides, aren’t doves just fancy pigeons?”

Missy lit up. “That’s exactly what I’ve been telling him!”

“Okay, if you stop siding with Missy I’ll debate giving you your own room.” 

“A chance to not be in the same room as you two? Sounds delightful.”

The Doctor glowered. “We’re not _that_ bad...”

“You are.”

Missy kicked her.

“Here we go again,” Nardole muttered.


	2. Blast it - no, K-9!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory the Unfortunate Roman gets dragged into the Doctor’s shit. K-9 shoots stuff, Leela stabs stuff. The usual, then. Oh, and Romana. Again.

Rory, as was to be expected, groaned. “So is this a kinky sex vault like River’s been telling me, or just a really inconvenient fridge?”

“Neither,” snapped the Doctor. “Mind leaving me alone?”

“I wish,” he grumbled. 

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, until Rory spoke again. “I swear, if you make me quand a dumb box for another two millennia, I will shoot you.”

The Doctor winced. “Don’t shoot me.”

“Oh, so you get to do all the cool stuff, huh? And I have to guard a box for two millennia, _again_ \- may I remind you - without so much as a custard cream?”

“Yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

Rory howled and stormed off in the opposite direction.

* * *

“So you are suggesting,” Leela said slowly, “that I guard your psychotic ex for the thousand years.”

The Doctor nodded lamely. “Sorry, but Rory stormed out on me.”

“What is this _Rory_ you speak of? Is it stabbable?’

“Is stabbable even a word? Also, Rory’s an Earth name. Don’t stab him.”

“But-”

“It’s like Missy all over again! Don’t stab people! It’s _immoral!_ ”

“Are you sure?” Leela asked. “Or do you just say this as a conversation starter?”

“I usually don’t have to say it,” the Doctor harrumphed. “But sometimes it feels like everyone I know is stabby.”

“Your psychotic ex is behind you.”

The Doctor span around to see Missy leering over him. “Put down the knife,” he said forcefully. “I don’t want you bonding with Leela.”

* * *

“ _No,_ Doctor, I absolutely refuse to guard your annoying cat. Or, as it seems at the moment, babysitting her.”

The Doctor looked at Romana, then at Leela’s knife, then at Romana again. “You’re just being unreasonable.”

“I’m being perfectly rational.”

“But this is really important!”

Romana sighed. “Most people don’t have so much trouble keeping their partners in check.”

“We’re - we’re not _married_ \- oh, blast it. We are, aren’t we?”

“No, K-9,” Romana said quietly, “don’t shoot him. No matter how satisfying it might be.”

“Affirmative, Mistress.”

If there was a hint of regret in Romana’s voice, she didn’t show it.

* * *

“That monster traumatised and abused my family for a year! They took over the entire world! And now you expect me to guard them?”

“Er.”

“If you were about to say yes then I will kick you in the balls - wait, do aliens even have balls?”

“...we have looms?”

“What the hell are _looms?_ ” Martha asked. “No, don’t answer that one either.”

She looked around. “So where’s the psycho right now?”

“First of all - oh, never mind. Doesn’t matter. You go on and leave, I don’t need your help.”

“Oh, don’t act all high-and-mighty with me, Doctor.”

“Martha, don’t - are you calling UNIT?”

“Yeah, they can judge you. I’ve done that enough for a lifetime already.”

The Doctor sighed. “She probably has a point,” he said to his five-foot stack of essays. “And you can stop looking at me like that too,” he said, taking in the smirk he’d drawn on one of them with a sharpie. “It really doesn’t suit your complexion.”

* * *

“You know,” the Doctor said, “I think the writing ‘evil monster inside, do not enter’ is a little camp.”

“Yeah, and you’re walking around in what basically amounts to a pride flag, so shut up.”

“No thank _you_. I rather like the sound of my own voice.”

 _Sadly,_ the Doctor thought, and kept any snide remarks inside his head. “Have you ever heard of hairdressers?”

Okay, so maybe not _entirely_ inside his head. “Yes, but I doubt _you_ have,” the Doctor snarled back. “Oh, what was it you wanted me to do again? Watch over these for a thousand-odd years?”

“Um.”

“How eloquent of you. I shall have to decline.”

“Why?” the Doctor asked. “I am _begging_ you. I might as well be on my knees in front of you!”

“That would be at least mildly disturbing.”

“...yeah. Oh, sod off. I don't even know why I asked you, you’re _insufferable_.”

“Thank you!” he said, beaming. “Good day to you, too!”

With that the Doctor gave up and left.


	3. I’m ace, motherfuckers - wait not like that Amy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy attempts to give Twelve the sex talk, and fails.
> 
> To be fair, so does Twelve.

“I dunno why I’m even here, but I’m going to make the best of it anyway.”

The Doctor looked at Amy. “Yeah, no idea. Sorry.”

“Since something’s clearly going on between you and Missy...”

“I knew at some point having a mother-in-law would come back to bite me,” the Doctor interjected.

“...I’m going to give you the sex talk.”

“Please don’t bother.”

“Why? I don’t care if you’re fucking or not - frankly, I don’t want to know - but clearly nobody on your home planet ever explained this to you.”

“Actually, Borusa did. In depth. That was the first and sadly not the last time I was traumatised.”

“Jeez, your planet is fucked up,” Amy said, sitting back in one of the chairs littered around the Vault.

“You don’t say,” he muttered, picking up his emotional support mug of microwaved tea.

* * *

“You _microwaved_ your _tea?_ ” Missy looked twice as horrified as Amy had at giving him the sex talk. “Oh gods. I think I need to throw up.”

“I’m going to call your past selves and tell them all about the joys of microwaved tea,” he said spitefully.

“You _wouldn’t._ ”

“I would.”

Amy glared. “Anyway, back to our conversation.”

“Can you please _not._ ”

“Oh, this is just as bad - if not worse - for me. So, when people love each other very much - although I’m not sure either of you have a very healthy relationship - sometimes they-”

“ _Amy!_ ”

“What?” she snapped.

“I’m ace, motherfucker. Just thought you might like to know.”

“Figured that out ages ago, dumbass. Also, motherfucker? Is that really appropriate language?”

It dawned on the Doctor precisely who he was talking to. “Ohhhhhh shit.”

* * *

Missy returned, looking rather pale. “Have you thrown that abomination of a drink into Tartarus yet?”

“You’re really pretentious sometimes.”

“By the way,” Amy pointed out, “you’re married.”

“Yes,” they chorused.

“And the Doctor is my son-in-law.”

“Correct,” the Doctor said.

“So, by that logic, so is Missy.”

“Oh fuck, I need to throw up again. No offence, Scottie,” Missy said. She did look awfully pale.

“So,” said the Doctor, “how do you feel about calling her past selves to discuss microwaved tea?”

Amy shrugged. “Or we could buy some bleach. I’m fine with either.”

* * *

“Hello, this is the Brigadier here.”

“Sure,” said the Doctor, “I’m looking for the Master?”

“Again?” asked the Brigadier, cracking open a bottle of alcohol.

“Yes,” interrupted another Scottish voice.

From the 1970s/80s phone line came the distinct sound of a head slamming into a desk.

“Thanks,” said the Doctor. “Won’t be long!”

* * *

Several minutes later, again from the 70s/80s end, there was a sound of what could only be described as pure, concentrated horror and disgust.

“Whoops,” said the Doctor, and dialed the Master’s phone number.


End file.
